All She'll Ever Know
by hallowgirlfrommars
Summary: "I went into a cave with Tom Riddle." There are the things she remembers but that's all she'll ever know. But the images come in her nightmares and the truth comes in her screams.


**OK, warning: this is kind of dark. It's rated T, but it's quite a dark T. Anyway, just remember!**

**If you read this and like it, review it before I set Tom Riddle on you. ;)**

** All She'll Ever Know**

She's barely been at the orphanage when she hears whispers of his name. "Don't go near Tom Riddle." "Not Tom Riddle." "Not him."

It's not just the other kids, it's the staff. "Strange boy. Never could quite take to him." "Damaged. Don't know what state his mother was in before she found us." "Not quite right, that boy."

She sees him at the other end of the table, the first night she arrives. Sitting there, eyes on his food. Pale skin. Dark eyes. Staring at his plate.

And when he looks up, a small smile-though not like any smile she's seen before. It makes her shiver. It makes her feel as though something's crawling in her stomach. It makes her tug at her feather-light hair and stare down at her plate, put her thumb in her mouth.

And when she looks up, he's looking at her. And still smiling.

_Dark-haired boy, knife-sharp smile._

She doesn't sleep that night. She lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. The mattress is hard and lumpy and the sheets are rough, pulled over her. She wants her mama, she wants to go home. She wants to pull her mama from the bed, wake her up, get rid of those eyes that stared without seeing.

She wants it to stop.

It doesn't.

She stuffs a corner of the blanket, this horrible, scratchy blanket in her mouth as she begins to whimper. But she's curled up in the dark, alone, and no-one comes to stop the crying.

And somewhere, in the midst of it, she thinks of Tom Riddle. And somehow, that cold feeling seeps through her again when she thinks of his smile. A feeling so cold that she stops crying. Thumb slides into her mouth, tears spilling on cheeks but no longer falling. Crying stopped.

_Cold smile, knife edge, dark-haired boy, running blood._

The orphanage settles around her and once she's been there a few weeks, she slides into the routine. Porridge, lessons, teasing, bed, and strange things that happen, strange things around Tom Riddle.

The whispers brush her cheeks at night, slide into her ears during the day. Other little girls crowd together, clutching their dresses when they see him. Some boys try to shove him, voices too loud, masking wide eyes. Others walk around him, treating him like a rock in a stream.

He doesn't seem to look at any of them.

But strange things happen. Like the boy they found with blisters all over his mouth. And the day they found the Hughes' girl's cat dangling from a branch, though it was soaking wet and the vet said it must have drowned.

But Tom Riddle never looks at them. Sits alone, eating, at the table. Sits alone, in his room, the rest of the time. And there's something about his room, when she walks past it, that makes her shiver.

His room, dark and cold. Something about beyond the door makes her wrap her arms around herself. Something about that room makes her hair stand up.

_Dark-haired boy, feather-light girl._

Mrs. Cole likes her, says she's a good girl, and brushes out her long, blonde hair. Says she's a bright little thing, sharp as a whip. She gets to read out loud at story-time and the other little girls crowd around her, and touch her hair, sometimes. Some of the little boys stand near her, staring at her hair, as if they want to touch it, too. Others laugh and tug her pigtails, and at first she cries, but then the other girls laugh and slide their arms around her and push the boys away and gradually, she learns to laugh, too.

Tom Riddle never touches her hair, or looks as if he'd like to. Tom Riddle never pushes her or tugs her pigtails or plaits. He stands away from her, away from all of them, staring away, not looking at her. Not looking at anyone.

And that makes her look at him.

_Dark-haired boy, all alone, shame about his mother, but what about everything else?_

The whispers are still in her head when she's standing outside his room one day. She doesn't know how, but she stands there more often, sometimes for longer, staring at his door, wondering what he's doing inside, what he's up to in there, why he doesn't want to play with the others...

And then the door opens.

She isn't sure how many days she's stood there when the door opens and he's standing there. She doesn't jump. But he's standing there, staring at her. He doesn't look surprised or angry. But her heart jumps and her eyes feel huge.

"What do you want?"

The voice is dangerously calm, and still as death. But it makes her tremble inside.

"N-nothing-" Her voice is a trembling thing, screaming to be heard. She takes a step back from Tom Riddle, who stands in the doorway, watching her, his head tilted slightly to one side.

"You have been standing there for days." His voice does not change. "I knew." Flash of a smile, flash of a knife-blade grin, and a shiver runs through her. He looks older than her, and he is there, and he is watching her.

She shakes her head. "I-I'm sorry-" He doesn't say anything and he's still standing, still watching, and then she turns and runs, runs down the corridor back to her own room.

_Blade smile, icy, cold, dark eyes, hollow, nothing behind._

She doesn't go near him for days, and every time she glimpses his door, she feels sick inside, her cheeks hot with it. But she can't get rid of him in her head, and it makes her feel empty and sick, it does.

_Eyes dark, skin pale, something there that shouldn't be, not natural for a child._

And then one day, she's coming up the stairs, and he's there, he's there, standing in his bedroom doorway.

"Curiosity isn't a sin." The words sound peculiar as if he's heard them elsewhere, and she freezes, wondering if it's her he can be addressing.

"Look where you want." He steps forward, and holds his hand out towards his room, a dark invitation inside. "That is what you want, isn't it?"

It's a question that doesn't sound like one. A question that sounds like an answer _he knows, he knows._

And she can't help but take a step forward, like a snake towards it's charmer, like a rabbit towards it's predator. He's a viper, sucking in prey.

She stands in the doorway, and he leans forward, his breath on her neck. Goosebumps raised, shivering. "Just a room." Three little words that make her head swim.

She stares inside, a frightened glimpse. A bed, books, a wardrobe. An ordinary room. Too ordinary for Tom Riddle.

"Seen enough?" His voice is light with something. Amusement, but it makes her stomach prick with terror.

She nods, and slides back. He leans against the door frame, watching her, eyebrow raised.

"Maybe-" His voice is a whisper. "You'll think about me in here, tonight."

He's stepped inside before she can say anything. She stares at the wood, trembling. And she doesn't know how he can know, how he can see..

And that night, she stares up at the ceiling, and he is everything she sees.

_Poor little girl, dark little boy, too young for such foolish pursuits._

He doesn't talk to her much. He doesn't speak to anyone. He always sits alone. Sometimes, she dares to scurry to a seat next to him, and when she does, he always watches her for a long moment, before turning back to his food. He never talks to her, and she rarely speaks to him.

But when he does speak, the words send shivers down her back. They're not pleasant words, always. Sometimes, he'll murmur something while watching someone, and his words are always edged in sugar and dripping through with venom. To listen to him speak is to bite into a sweet and have bile drench your mouth.

And sometimes, she feels like the poison coats her skin. Coats her and sticks to her and drips over her body, and it's so thick she can almost see it.

When she has her bath at night, she scrubs and scrubs and scrubs but she can never quite feel free of it. Never quite feel free of _him._

_Poor little girl, sticky little mess._

He whispers in her ear once. "You like me, don't you, Amy?"

She jumps and she shivers because his breath always raises goosebumps on her skin. His eyes are dark circles that bore into hers', sucking her in. Her lungs feel filled with cold, as if she's drowning in blackness.

"You like me, don't you, little girl?"

She wonders vaguely why he calls her that, when they're almost the same age. But she doesn't know what he wants to hear to his question. Or if he wants to hear anything to his question.

Slowly, uncertainly, she nods, her eyes fixed on his. Her breath stutters in her chest, her heart contracts as he watches her, his lips turned up in that whisper of a smile. It never seems like a real smile, somehow. Dark whispers, secret sounds, silent laughter in his eyes.

"Of course you do." The lip curls slightly and there's a lick of contempt to the words now, that seems to graze her skin lightly and make her shiver. "Of course you do."

He watches a second more and then turns away from her. He casts her one look over his shoulder, and then turns back to his bedroom. She shivers, and after a moment of standing, runs back to her own room.

She curls up on her bed, listening to the distant sound of Mrs. Cole shouting at a child, and wonders why her eyes prickle with liquid.

_Poor little girl, scared little thing. Cold eyes, twisted smile._

Dennis Bishop is one of the boys who tugs her pigtails but after she's been there a while, he stops. Instead, she catches him staring at her in class, and his cheeks flush when his eyes meet hers'. She always stares away, but her heart is beating fast.

He always gives her extra sweets when he has them and he stands next to her, ready to ward off anyone else who tugs her pigtails. Once, his hand touches hers' for a moment, and it makes her feel as though something's fizzing inside her stomach.

But Tom Riddle never looks their way when she's looking. Once, when she glances up, she thinks she catches him watching but he's looking away before she can speak.

And then one night, he speaks to her. Only a few words but they're enough to make her shiver.

"He's a sweet friend, isn't he, your Dennis?" The words are sweet and light but are coated with something sour underneath, something that almost makes her choke.

"He's not my Dennis." Her voice is thin, strained with something, with the terrifying feeling of her this close to him.

"Oh, but I think he is." The voice is smiling now, and somehow more terrible for that. "He's your little friend, isn't he? Your sweet little friend."

She turns towards him, her shoulders trembling. "Why are you being like this? I thought you were my friend."

His eyes widen, and somehow, deep inside herself, she knows she's made a mistake. He's watching her, his head tipped to one side, and the smile is still there, but his eyes are cold.

"You're not my friend." His voice is low and sends a shiver through her. He stares at her, shaking his head slowly. "I am _not_ your friend."

He turns away to his bedroom, leaving her standing still, arms wrapped around herself, staring after him.

_Poor little girl, poor little boy, in too far, too far to get out._

The trip's been planned, weeks in advance, the trip to the beach. And she's excited, she's been waiting so long. She and Dennis are excited together, are already planning the games they'll play, the places they'll run. And she hasn't thought about Tom Riddle in days.

And then he is there, in his bedroom doorway, with that smile. "It will be fun when we go to the beach, won't it?"

His voice is soft and it stops her in her tracks. She pauses, staring straight ahead and then turns around to look at him. "I thought you said we weren't friends?"

He smiles softly, shaking his head, as though she's a small child, needing things explained more carefully. "Amy" he says, his voice softer than she's ever heard it-almost dangerously soft. "I'm sorry for that. Can't I try to be your friend now?"

She wants to say yes. But something about that smile isn't friendly. It's cold, dark. A shark's smile.

But his voice is soft, gently persuasive. "Please, Amy. Can't I be your friend? I didn't mean to upset you."

The words are sweet, edged in sugar. And before she can stop herself, Amy nods.

He smiles wider. "Excellent. And we could spend time together on the trip, tomorrow?"

Amy nods again. "Dennis will be there. Do you not like him?"

For the briefest of moments, she thinks she sees his eyes flicker. But then he nods. "Of course he can be there."

She smiles, relieved, for the moment. "All right, then."

And he answers her with a smile.

_Sweet little smiles, drawing you in. Sweet little whispers, trapping you there._

The trip starts off well. She smiles at Tom Riddle on the bus, and he smiles back. And Dennis-who used to be one of the boys to either bump Tom's elbow or stare at him wide-eyed, has, after a bit of pleading from her, promised to put up with him for the day.

"Hold my hand on the ride back" he whispers in her ear. "If I'm nice to him. Please?"

And Amy gulps and nods, looking down to hide her flushed cheeks.

When they pile off the bus, children already running and shrieking, and as they listen to instructions from Mrs. Cole and the helpers, Amy is already standing with Dennis, who keeps grinning at her with pink cheeks. She's just thinking how nice he looks with his black curly hair and his shining eyes, when her own eyes fall on Tom, standing just a few feet away.

He's watching her, out of a hooded, veiled gaze, and she swallows. "Come on, Dennis" she says, beckoning him over to Tom, as they listen to the last of Mrs. Cole's instructions about sticking together in groups of three or more and _do not be late back._

She nods, and turns away with Dennis towards Tom Riddle. "Coming, Tom?"

There's a second's wait, during which Dennis looks at the ground, and chews his lip and Tom regards them both with his head tilted to the side, as though they are amusing toys or little children. Amy waits, holding her breath.

Then, he nods, with a small smile, and the day seems to brighten.

_Foolish little thing, all yellow hair, and big eyes and the boy alongside her...children, too easy to fool..._

The three children duck around the rocks, and venture into a few shops, with Dennis and Amy chattering away. Tom Riddle remains silent, only venturing to offer the occasional nod, or that small smile. That small smile that Amy tells herself she likes, even when it makes her feel as though something is crawling in her stomach, making her shiver inside.

"What do you want to do next?" Dennis asks, looking at her more than Tom. "We could go down onto the beach. We could go climbing-"

Amy looks to Tom, who has so far not spoken a word. "I think we should let Tom decide" she says, with a quick smile at the dark-haired, pale boy. She beams, trying to tell him with her eyes that it's all right, she'll go along with anything he suggests, anything he wants to do.

Tom Riddle raises his head and his eyes meet hers'. "I know a secret place we could go."

Amy nods, exchanging a quick glance with Dennis. "All of us?"

Tom Riddle's eyes cloud over. "No. Just us." He glances between them. "Just us three."

Amy relaxes at his intention of including Dennis. "All right. Where is it?"

"It's just over there. I found it last time we were here. It could be our place. Just our place, up here. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Again, he seems to be addressing only Amy, though he does glance at Dennis briefly.

Amy nods. "Yes. Of course." She glances at Dennis too, eyes widening beseechingly.

Dennis clears his throat. "Yeah...maybe."

Tom Riddle's smile flickers back. "Perfect." He turns away, beckoning them after him. "Follow me."

Amy exchanges a curious glance with Dennis, who shrugs and they both follow after Tom Riddle. The spray from the sea chills Amy's arms, and she hugs herself, shivering slightly.

It takes her a moment to realise how far they've wandered away from everyone else, and that she doesn't quite know where they are. Tom has wandered ahead, of them, though she isn't sure one could call it wandering-there is a strange purpose to his stride, and she remembers that he, alone of the three of them, knows where he is going.

"Tom?" He doesn't answer. She shoots Dennis a worried glance, and quickens her pace. The mist is descending around them, clinging to their hair. "Tom?"

He has stopped dead, and he's standing by a cliff. He turns to look at her, and there's a strange wild happiness to his features now-but it doesn't make him easier to look at. He looks wild, different, _mad, dangerous._

"Amy" he says and he beckons her and Dennis over, still with that strange, wild smile. "This is the place."

_Stupid little girl, stupid little thing to walk forward so trustingly. Take the hand offered and walk into the darkness, like a trusting little dog. Stupid, stupid child._

"Tom, no-"

"I'll be below you. You won't fall."

She's clinging to the side of the rocks, her fingers aching from digging in. She doesn't dare to glance down. "Please, Tom-please, get me down-"

"I'm getting you down. I'm getting you down to the beach. Both of you. You and Dennis. Come on, now. Let go for me, Amy. You won't fall."

She is clinging, a terrified limpet. His voice whispers in her ear.

"I'm your friend, aren't I, Amy?"

Can't answer.

"Aren't I?"

She manages a nod. Teeth clattering together, shattering against each other like glass, fear cutting her mouth to shreds.

"Friends trust each other, Amy."

She nods once again, her fingers white with tension.

"Let go for me, Amy. I promise I'll catch you. How am I below you, otherwise?"

She gnaws her lip, the skin loose and flaking. Her fingers slip on the damp rock.

"Trust me, Amy-"

Her fingers slip and slip and then she lets go. Her mouth opens in a scream, but she isn't falling-instead, somehow she's moving down the rock, her hands and feet barely touching it, and yet, somehow she's climbing down until she's at the bottom, her feet touching the sand. She's sobbing, though, almost unable to catch her breath, and something wells up inside her body, wells up as if to tear her apart.

"Stop crying," Tom Riddle's voice is sharper this time. "Stop crying, Amy. You're down, aren't you?" He steps closer to her. "_Aren't you?"_

She nods once, shaking. He steps away. "So stop snivelling."

She tries, tries to wipe her hand under her nose, to catch the tears and snot and spray now smearing her face. Tom Riddle arches an eyebrow and turns away to the top. "Now-" That smile again, _wild, pulsing, dangerous._"To get your friend down, too."

_Stupid little girl. Stupid little friend._

It takes a while to get Dennis down-he hangs on until his grip weakens and he has to let go and then Amy sees him glide down the rocks the same way she did-the way that makes her mouth hang open. She stares at Tom Riddle, and he smiles back, still with that same wild look. She's shaking as she watches him.

"Now" he says. "It's just a little walk away."

_And they follow him. They follow him and they never know how he got them down, never know how he knew where to go, never know why. But they follow him._

It's when they get in through the cave mouth that Dennis takes her hand, and Tom's head snaps back so fast that Amy's sure his neck will crack. "No holding hands, Amy" he says, and it's so dark she can't see his mouth, but she knows he's smiling, just knows it.

She's shaking. "W-why not?"

There's a moment of silence and then his voice, tighter this time. "Because I say not, little girl." There's that sound in his voice again, and then Dennis' hand is leaving hers', and she hears him stumble to the side.

Tom Riddle's voice is quiet. "Just a little further now-just a little further-"

And they edge further into the cave. Amy tries to pull back, but somehow cannot. They pull further in, and it gets darker and darker and it gets harder and harder to hold back the tears.

She doesn't know how long it takes before they stop and Tom is facing them. Somehow, she knows he's facing them, even though she can't see a thing, except the faint outline of rocks. She can hear a dripping of water, and her breath is cold. They're somewhere away from the world, and she can't help but think Tom has taken her and Dennis away from anything real, into a mysterious other place, where only he can help them.

"Stop crying, Amy." His voice is soft. "You know I don't like crying."

She nods, and snuffles and tries to wipe the tears away. He is watching her, she can feel it, and she struggles to breathe in.

"You like me, don't you, Amy?"

She nods. "Y-yes." She tries to breathe through the tears.

"But you're scared of me."

She shakes her head. "N-no-I'm not-"

He shakes his head. "Dear, dear, Amy. We can't have you lying to me now, can we? You're supposed to be my friend."

A tear trickles down her cheek.

He shakes his head-she can feel him, even if she can't see him. "But you don't like me, do you, Dennis?"

Dennis doesn't answer, and Amy feels her heart throw itself against her chest for fear of him. Please, just answer, just answer.

"Do you, Dennis?" Tom has taken a step towards them, she can feel it.

Dennis' mouth has opened. "I-I-"

Tom laughs softly, and it's a sound that lifts the hair on the back of Amy's neck. "I didn't think so."

He steps back, away from them both. "And we can't have that. now, can we?"

He whispers something and Dennis is suddenly falling, being dragged across the ground, his cries echoing off the walls of the cave. Amy's own screams follow, and then suddenly her voice is gone. Tom Riddle' s hand is around her wrist, and suddenly, she can feel his breath on her face.

"Silly little girl" he breathes. "I thought you were my friend, silly Amy. You silly, silly girl."

She tries not to struggle, tries not to pull away, as he throws her forwards. Her knees smash into the ground, and she can hear Dennis a few feet away, his pants, gasping breaths.

Tom Riddle moves to stand over her. "Now-" he says quietly. "Let's have some fun, shall we?" She knows he is smiling, can picture it even in the dark. "That's what friends do, isn't it, Amy?"

_Whispers, his voice, his whispers, him. Coiling in her ear, even after it's over, even during the nights she lies awake, sobbing their names, his whispers are in her head._

She's crying and she can't help it, this time, standing over Dennis like this. "Please, Tom."

"You're going to do it, Amy. You're going to do it for me. And I'll make you do it."

Amy's sobbing as she kneels down beside Dennis. Tom bends down too. "Cut him" he whispers, and there's a rock in her hands, a rock tapered to a point. "Cut his arm."

She's sobbing, and sobbing and sobbing but she lifts the rock, because Tom's making her do it, and she tries to fight it, but she can't and then the rock lashes into Dennis' arm and he's screaming and so is she and all she can see is the blood staining his arm and her fingers, proof of her guilt.

Dennis is howling now, and Amy turns away. Her head slams into someone's chest and then someone else is turning her back towards Dennis, and her eyes are somehow forced open to watch him howl, the blood running down his arm.

"You did that, Amy." The voice in her ear is a snake's, and it slithers into her brain, curling up in a whisper. "You did that to your little friend. For me. Because you're my _friend."_ Something bites into her arm. "You think I'm your friend, don't you, Amy?"

She nods, before suddenly her whole body is coiling with pain, and her head is throwing back and forth, and her screams are echoing off the cave walls.

And through it all, she can hear Tom Riddle's whisper.

_You think I'm your friend. Don't you?_

She doesn't know when it stops, when she sees Dennis kneeling above her, when she sees the same sharp-tipped rock in his hand, and knows what he is about to do. And she hears Tom Riddle's whisper.

"You're going to move this towards her arm. And you're going to see it coming." A stroke to her hair. "And you're going to feel it prick your skin and then you are going to scream." Another whisper. "Because you're my _friend."_

She nods, because she can't get away. She nods, because she doesn't know what else to do.

And Dennis is crying above her, and he is holding the rock, and it's moving towards her arm, and she turns away, because she can't watch it, and she can't watch him have to do it. She can't.

And she hears, high and cold, Tom Riddle's laugh.

And then it pricks her skin and then she's screaming.

_Good little girl. Just what I told you to do._

She is lying on her back, and dimly she thinks of Mrs. Cole and the others high above her, and she doesn't know where they are or how far they've come. All she knows is that Tom Riddle has led her and Dennis far away, and she doesn't know how they'll get back.

Tom Riddle is standing above her, and this time, she sees his smile. "Now" he says.

He doesn't touch her. He doesn't do anything else. But he stares at her, stares into her eyes and at once, she feels as if he's reaching into her thoughts, yanking them to the surface to examine. She tries to curl up, but she can't. She feels filthy, as if he's pushed his hand into her chest, and pulled out her heart. As if he's peeled off her skin and stared at her pulsing insides.

_Poor little girl. Poor little friend._

She doesn't know when it ends, and she doesn't know for a moment that she's crying, tears soaking her cheeks in a saltwater stream, sobs shaking from her chest. All she knows is that Tom Riddle is still standing there, over her.

Smiling.

_Little secrets._

The blood disappears from their hands, vanishes from their skin. The cuts are healed somehow, when he touches their arms, but it doesn't feel like anything good. Their skin doesn't sting anymore, but in Amy's chest, it's heavy and cold and dark.

Tom Riddle smiles. "There you go" he whispers quietly. "You're my friends, aren't you?"

Neither of them dare to shake their heads.

"Clever." He touches them both on the shoulders. "And that was fun, wasn't it?"

Amy's lip trembles and she feels more tears burn in her eyes. But Tom is watching her.

"Don't cry, little Amy." Another horrible smile."Friends don't make each other _cry."_

She gulps and nods, and tries to swallow it down.

_Good little girl. Good little girl._

When they walk back up the cliff, they look no different. Amy knows this somehow. But she feels different. And she can feel what happened inside her.

But when she tries to grab the details, they slip away, like water between her fingers.

But something happened.

Mrs. Cole hurries towards them-and Amy can't remember how they got back up the cliff now. She can't remember at all.

"What happened?" Mrs. Cole grabs hold of her shoulders. "Where have you been?"

Amy opens her mouth. Tries to say something. But all that comes out is "We went into a cave with Tom."

Dennis nods. "Yes."

Mrs. Cole's staring at them. "A cave?"

Tom Riddle is smiling. "Yes. Exploring. Just a game." He tips his head to the side. "I'm sorry if you were worried."

Mrs. Cole is still watching them. "And are you two all right?"

Amy notices she hasn't asked Tom. But again, she nods. "Yes. I'm fine." Her voice sounds strange, as though it's not connected to her body.

Dennis nods again. "Me too."

Mrs. Cole is watching them. "Well, don't run off again, it could have been dangerous-" She is tugging them back towards the waiting group. "Come on now, you've kept us waiting fifteen minutes-you need to get home-"

Amy doesn't hear the rest of it. Instead, she's trying to hold onto the details of what happened in the cave. And she can't.

But when she looks at Tom Riddle, he smiles. And it makes her stomach twist into a knot.

When she's sick as they climb off the bus back in London, everyone blames it on travel sickness. But Amy shivers inside.

_One more little story, hidden away._

Tom Riddle goes away, soon after. Away to a school, they were told. A school for special children.

Tom Riddle is special, all right.

And Amy stays quiet. She never speaks about it. Though people have asked her. Mrs. Cole pulled both her and Dennis aside to ask if there was anything they wanted to tell her. The other children think they've got boring. They don't play anymore, don't laugh, don't speak.

But Amy doesn't care anymore.

She feels cold inside. She curls up in her bed at night, but she can't stop herself shivering. Can't stop herself feeling as though she's contaminated, tainted, changed.

And the images come in the nightmares. And the truth comes in her screams.

But never in words. Never in words she could say to anyone. Never in words she could say to herself.

But every night, Amy Benson wakes up screaming.

_Whispers in the mind._

Dennis never held her hand again. Tom Riddle never spoke to either of them again. Amy didn't speak much anymore.

That was the way it was for a while.

But now, he's seventeen. And he's going away. She knows, somehow, it's his last time here. He won't be coming back.

And he stands in her bedroom doorway. "Miss me, Amy?"

She doesn't look. She can't speak, she can't cry, she can't scream.

He's behind her, now, walking closer, and his fingers touch her neck for a second.

She jerks away instantly, but goosebumps rise on her skin.

"I don't think you'll be seeing me again." His voice is low. "Wonder if you're going to miss me?"

Amy can't look at him.

But then he leans forward and his voice is on her skin. "Remember, Amy. You're my friend." A small laugh, and his lips near her cheek. "Aren't you?"

Amy can't move. His fingers touch her cheek once, stroke from top to bottom.

She flinches, waiting for the nail in her flesh, the sharp scratch in her skin.

But just another stroke. And then he's walking back, she can hear.

And she turns just in time to catch one glimpse of him, in the doorway.

Tall. Pale. Dark eyes.

And still with that smile.

_Knife smile. Blade. Whispers._

And that night, she screams harder than ever into her blankets, but absolutely no-one hears.

_No-one ever hears._

"What happened to you on that trip?"

"I went into a cave with Tom Riddle."

That's all she can ever say. All she can ever know.

Sometimes, she and Dennis look at each other and look away. Sometimes, she wakes up, convinced she'll find a rock buried in her skin, slicing through her flesh as she watches. Sometimes, she'll know something-a whisper, a word, a sound-and have it slip through her fingers like blood, like water.

They're the things she remembers.

"I went into a cave with Tom Riddle."

But that's all she'll ever know.


End file.
